Enemy Mine
Authors: Karin Harlow
PRAISE FOR
ENEMY
LOVER
“Harlow begins with a gut-wrenching bang and doesn’t let go. There’s not a dull moment. … It’s full of surprises and seriously entertaining.
Enemy Lover
is quite a wonderful find.”
—Romantic Times
“Hold on to your seat (and your book) because Karin Harlow’s
Enemy Lover
will take you on one wild ride! Fans of mystery, suspense, and paranormal will enjoy this series debut novel!”
—Once Upon a Chapter
“Harlow has started her debut series with a huge explosion. Betrayal, espionage, action, suspense, hot and smokin’ sex—and then she tosses vampires into the mix. This is one awesome read.”
—The Good, The Bad, and The Unread
“Entertaining. … Marcus is everything one would desire in a hero. … For paranormal readers yearning for something delicious to sink their teeth into …
Enemy Lover
is one such morsel.”
—Lovin’ Me Some Romance
“A surprisingly good and unexpected read. … Harlow seamlessly wove vampire, myth, mayhem, and special ops together, and did a wonderful job of it.”
—Bitten by Books
ALSO BY KARIN HARLOW
Enemy Lover
Available from Pocket Star Books
 | Pocket Star Books A Division of Simon & Schuster, Inc. 1230 Avenue of the Americas New York, NY 10020 www.SimonandSchuster.com |
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2011 by Karin Tabke
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information address Pocket Books Subsidiary Rights Department, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020
First Pocket Star Books paperback edition September 2011
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Cover illustration by Gene Mollica
Manufactured in the United States of America
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
ISBN 978-1-4391-7787-7
ISBN 978-1-4391-7797-6 (ebook)
To Dad, I miss you
ENEMY
MINE
HER DECEPTION KEPT HER ALIVE. AND SHE LIVED TO KILL.
New Year’s Eve
Whitechapel, London
S
elena strode down the dark, slippery alleyway. Her warm breath curled in robust swirls around her head as she exhaled. Her four-inch heels clicked on the cobblestones smoothed by thousands of feet over hundreds of years, defiantly echoing the distant beat of a nearby nightclub’s entertainment. Her quick, confident stride dared any man, woman, or beast to challenge her. It was fitting, she supposed, that her quarry had picked such an infamous area to ring in the New Year.
It would be his last celebration.
Abruptly, she stopped to pinpoint his exact location.
Her arms hung loosely at her sides and her fingertips tapped an anxious staccato on her smooth leather pants. A brisk wind shoved her black leather duster away from her before it settled loosely back around her body, cocooning her against the elements and whatever else might attempt to provoke her this night.
On a nice day, London was damp and cold; now, in the dead of winter, it was frigid. But she’d dressed for the occasion. She’d forsaken her normal Miami-heat wear for head-to-toe leather.
She raised her chin and stared up at the gray moon. Clouds traced across it as the damp air began to mist. She detested London weather.
The muffled night sounds of straggling merrymakers drifted along the alley to her ears. She lifted her nose, closed her eyes, and inhaled. To a human, the air reeked of rotted food, urine, and misery. To her, half-daemon, the air could not have smelled sweeter.
Her quarry was near. His sulfurous scent overrode every other scent for miles.
The three platinum-set stones in her necklace warmed. She smiled and absently stroked them. Nanorians. Her talismans. More precious than any gem, the daemon hearts held power beyond what any mortal could wield.
Only a few beings knew how to harvest them, and fewer still possessed the power and cunning to extract one from its protected spot: a Hellkeeper’s chest.
She, however, would have no problem separating the rare stone from her quarry.
Her body twitched with anticipation as raucous laughter mixed with the driving beat of the nightclub. She leapt onto the edge of an overflowing Dumpster, using the stench to mask her own scent. Her human mother’s people called her
cazadora
, huntress. Because she divested daemon-possessed humans of their ill-gotten gains and dispersed them to the less fortunate, they believed she was a modern-day Robin Hood. The image veiled what she really was, an outlaw
asesina
, an assassin, with only one prey: Hellkeepers. Seven of the most powerful daemons in Hell, and the only ones who possessed the treasured nanorians.
A group of four drunken revelers stumbled into the slick alley. She knew immediately all four were human. However, the largest male, the one she had been tracking for almost a week, the one who stank like Hell, was the one she focused on. And God help the poor human who played unwitting host to the Hellkeeper lurking inside him.
After Selena harvested the nanorian, the human might survive. If he didn’t, she’d feel a fleeting sense of regret, but would look beyond to the bigger picture. One less Hellkeeper on this earth not only served a personal vendetta, but it was in the best interest of mortals as a race.
The scent of alcohol wafted around her head. Good. She liked the unsuspecting to be drunk. That made it much easier to fill their heads with terror to distract them.
Ah, yes, the human mind, it was such a lovely thing to waste.
Turning her attention to the three who were clueless about the treacherous company they kept, Selena noiselessly pulled a long sword from the sheath strapped to her back. With both hands grasping the worn leather grip, she bent her head over the blade and pointed it at the three. Silently, she tapped into their thoughts, then began her incantation, conjuring up each one’s deepest, darkest fears. Immediately, they stopped moving while the one possessed continued to walk toward her.
Terrified screams shredded the still air. One human placed his hands over his eyes and stumbled backward. Another covered her ears and fell to her knees on the stone. The third turned and fled, falling twice before clearing the entrance to the alley.
The possessed human stopped short, but not out of fear. His human form expertly surveyed the area. When he caught sight of her, power twined with malevolence pulsed off him in waves, slamming against her chest. Selena held steady.
“Would you dare challenge me, human?” he demanded, his daemon voice thick and thunderous. The woman and man behind him fled. Now it was just the two of them. Selena smiled at his erroneous assumption. Not only wasn’t she human, but, no thanks to her father, she was one of the most powerful daemons he’d ever encounter.
He was in for a surprise.
Keeping her sword at the ready, she hopped from the edge of the Dumpster to the ground, disturbing the thick waves of his power.
His throaty growl would have sent a lesser being running for the hills, but Selena had trained for years for moments like this. To make sure she had every advantage tonight, she had also fortified herself with more than her sword, her training, her hatred, and the power of her nanorian necklace. Tonight, she’d taken a healthy shot of Rev—the forbidden blood of the most powerful Otherworld beings. It coursed through her veins, making what was already powerful, virtually undefeatable.
She was more than prepared for a brutal and sustained battle.
“Indeed, Baphomet, I not only challenge you, but I intend to rip that daemon heart of yours right out of your chest.”
He threw his head back and laughed. Selena took the opening. She leapt into the air, lengthening her body behind the sword so that she resembled a sleek, leather-clad dagger. She would do her best to spare the human’s life, but there would be damage. There always was; it was part of the hunt.
The daemon responded more swiftly than she expected. He grabbed the razor-sharp tip of her sword and yanked it hard, sending her flying against the brick wall of the building behind her. She hit with a harsh thud, knocking the wind out of her.
Damn!
She leapt into the air and collided with his human body just as he lunged toward her with her sword in his hand. He sliced at her, catching her right shoulder. Pain seared through her flesh. As she tumbled back against the wall again, the daemon taunted, “You know who I am, what I am, and how to fight me. I am unimpressed if
you
are the rogue hunter the Order has put a bounty on.” He laughed low, demonically. “I don’t see why others fear you, but I look forward to collecting my reward.”
“You’ll take the Order’s gold even as you break every law it forged in the blood of the Five?” Selena’s statement wasn’t a question, but it
was
a tad hypocritical. The Order, ruled by the Five—leaders of each immortal order: vampire, daemon, lycan, the fallen, and those prissy fey—had been created to prevent immortals from killing each other and, in so doing, destroying the one thing they all needed to survive: humans. The rules were simple and strictly enforced. Possessing humans for pleasure was forbidden—but so was hunting immortals, especially your own kind. She mentally shrugged. She’d never been one for following rules.
A malicious sneer twisted Baphomet’s words. “In a matter of months, the Order of Five will be no more. Taking its place will be the Order of One, with Apollyon as supreme leader.”
Selena snorted in contempt. The Order was indestructible, even
if
the daemons broke off. At the Order’s helm was Rurik, an ancient and powerful vampire. “Even Hell is not powerful enough to vanquish Rurik and the Others.”
The Hellkeeper threw his head back and laughed. “Mademoiselle Death Dealer, you do your kind a grave disservice. There will be no war between the Others. We have found a simple way to break Rurik and his hold on us by removing the one thing his kind requires to survive. Human blood.”
The Hellkeeper’s laughter was so deep and so potent the percussion of it lifted her long braid off her back. It whipped around, slapping her in the face. She flung it away, narrowing her eyes at the arrogant creature. “When Hell freezes over.”
Selena somersaulted up into the air; flinging her hand out, she kicked Baphomet’s arm with her right foot and caught her sword with her left. As she twisted and came down, he snatched the sword from her hand as if she held no power. For the first time in months—no, years—indecision made her falter.
His demonic laughter shook the stone alley beneath her feet. “My strength is superior to yours, even with the hearts of my brothers you so insolently wear around your neck.”
He was strong. Stronger maybe than the ones before him.
Raising her chin, she said, “I possess the power of your brothers and it is fueled by my hatred for your kind. When I have your heart, I’ll savor the power you so arrogantly dangle before me.”
“I’d say you harbor a bit of arrogance yourself. But then, you’ve always been daddy’s little girl, like it or not, eh?” He tsked when Selena softly cursed him. “Come now.” He beckoned. “Come die by your own sword.”
Selena shook her head, then withdrew her second sword from the crisscrossed sheath on her back. “Not tonight, Bap ol’ boy. Not until you leave that body and show your true self.”
“I am no fool, outlaw. I know, ridiculous as it is, that you value this human’s life. I don’t, so what do I have to lose?”
With a quick jab, Selena ran the human through.
The poor guy screamed as Baphomet hissed and bellowed his outrage.
If he did not exit the dying host, he would die with it. She grabbed her other sword when it clattered to the cobblestones. “Hmmm,” she murmured. “I guess you were wrong.” Selena stood above him, swords at the ready. “It will be your last mistake.”
Anxiously, she waited for the daemon to purge itself from the human body. She’d have only seconds to catch him before he fully materialized into his most powerful daemon form.
Baphomet began to emerge from the human’s mouth and nostrils as a vapor that quickly solidified. When he was half-cast, Selena cut him in half.
Wicked screams rent the air. She stepped on the daemon’s head, grinding it into the ground. She needed all of him in his daemon form to harvest the heart. She skewered his throat with her sword. “Come to me quietly, Baphomet, come to me quietly and I will make your end as painless as possible.”
“Release me,” he begged as his cloven hands scraped at her legs. This daemon’s natural form was a brimstone-breathing goat. He was powerful and agile; his hind leg dug into her side, piercing her skin.
“Your release will serve only to make you a permanent resident of all seven Hells!”
She grabbed his horn and pulled it away from her side as he jerked to gouge her. Then she hacked at the tendons of his back legs, grounding him. Fire from his screams singed her skin, but he kept his hold on her.
“Release me, daughter of Paymon, release me and I will share my king’s secret. If you kill me, the fate of humanity is at stake.”
“The fate of humanity is at stake as long as you bastards keep possessing them.” She sliced off his right hindquarter.
“Would you sacrifice your daughter and the world’s daughters for my heart?”
Every cell in her body froze. “I have no daughter!”
His laughter mocked her. “So you say. …”
Selena saw red. Her hand shook. How did he know about Marisol? Only the nuns and the priest who cared for the girl knew of her child’s existence. Did Paymon, that miserable excuse for a sperm donor she had spent years avoiding, suspect her daughter lived even though Selena had so convincingly staged her death? Fear and uncertainty infused her. Her father, a cunning Prince of Hell, would never divulge such a suspicion to a Hellkeeper. The knowledge was powerful in itself, and to admit anything would be daemon suicide. There was no honor among any of them, only continual jostling for power. If Paymon knew Marisol lived and where she was, he would have acted. Bap was blowing smoke up her ass. Marisol was safe amongst the nuns of the sacred order of St. Michael’s.
Selena swept the worry away and focused on grinding the arrogant daemon into a goat burger. Thrusting her sword deep into Baphomet’s chest, she could feel the vibration of his heartbeat against her steel. She hesitated to finish him off. There was a sadistic part of her nature that only reared its head when she came face-to-face with her father’s kind. Their momentary suffering for all the pain they inflicted was a small price for them to pay.
Baphomet had fully solidified; his body parts lay in pieces on the ground around them. It looked like a butcher shop. Though she had him at a gross disadvantage, his vital parts still worked. With methodical precision, she began to cut around his heart.
“The daemons have united,” he screeched. “They weary of being cast aside by the Others. In two months’ time, the legions will possess every mortal soul that walks the earth.”
Selena turned her blades, digging deeper, loosening the stone.